Turn of the Die
by Jasie Song
Summary: Mr. Granger's closet gambling takes a precarious turn, Hermione finds herself caught up in the mysteries surrounding her former Potion's Master
1. Playboy of the Year

Turn of the Die

DISCLAIMER

This entire work is based around the setting of J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter Universe, and some plot parodying of "A Hazard of Hearts" (Barbara Cartland novel/movie). This fic is not set in the regency period of AHOH, but is rather set several years after the golden trio's seventh Hogwart's year (alternate timeline/universe, as historic events diverge around book five).

**CHAPTER 1**

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* * *

**

"Just put that over there," Hermione sighed, retying back her hair for the third time that day. Her wand was in one of the lockers at the front desk of the small Wizard community center, as some of the plants and animals residing there were sensitive to magic. "Just a few more boxes and we can quit for the day."

"Merlin." Ginny huffed and set the box down, "How did we let them talk us into volunteering again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Civic duty and all." Straitening her back she groaned at the audible pops. "And then Ron bailed on us. This is not exactly how I imagined Post-Graduation celebration."

"I still have two years yet to go." Ginny frowned, "And you graduated with top honors with a double major, a year early! How do you do that with holding down your jobs too?"

"A lot of sleepless nights," Hermione yawned, recollecting university days. Scholarships had carried her most the way, but her mother had taken ill, leaving her parents with little money to spare her. A part time job at Flourish and Blott's and a job as a mail in private tutor had allowed her to make ends meet, but the pressure on her time had been difficult. For three years she had been constantly busy, and had made no friends beyond the ones she already had. At least Ginny had joined her after the Weasley girl graduated, and had been a bolt of sunshine in Hermione's mad dash to graduate. Hermione planned to earn more money over the summer, and if she could not find an apprenticeship, hoped to land a scholarship to one of the elite graduate schools offering advanced degrees.

"Hermione!" Ginny shouted.

Hermione almost dropped the box she was holding. "What?"

"Check this out!" She waved a magazine wildly in front of Hermione, who finally noticed the back issues of Witch's Weekly spilling out of the tilted box Ginny had just stacked. "Never in a million Years! Although jeepers, Hermione, he was hot!"

"Who?" Hermione tried to grab the waving paper but failed.

"Look!" Ginny danced around, finally opening the magazine to the centerfold and reading aloud. "June 1987, the sexiest bachelor of the year according to the annual Witch's Weekly Poll. This man -" Ginny omitted the name, "This man describes himself as intellectual, level headed, and committed. 'Dark chocolate and silver roses.' Ginny dropped her voice, attempting to sound seductive as she read from the interview section, 'If a girl is mine she is mine, and the pour soul who lays a hand on her would wish himself in Azkaban.' Hobbies of this years somewhat reluctant bachelor include solving logic problems, potions brewing, inventing new hexes and of course, charming the ladies."

"Just show me the picture." Hermione snorted. "Who is it?"

"Guess," Ginny grinned.

"Fine, fine." Hermione mused for a moment, "I cannot say I know many lady charmers who are intellectuals. Unless Lockhart won and the whole thing is a lie."

"Oh try harder!" Ginny smirked. "You had a crush on him once!"

"He must be older than me then." Hermione frowned, mentally going through her short checklist. "Are you sure I had a crush on him?"

"Most definitely, back in my sixth year. Now think." Ginny tossed her head, red hair flying. "Smart, dark, and a killer at potions."

"Snape?" Hermione blurted out then clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Ding ding ding." Ginny held open the centerfold.

It took Hermione a moment to recognize the man, lounging as he was lengthwise on his couch dressed elegantly in dark green. It was a handsome man, the kind in romance novels and movies, aristocratically pale skin and fine dark hair. His teeth were strait and white, his face well balanced with a perfect, aquiline nose. A few silver scars traced his features in places, but there were no pockmarks or yellowed spots, and his skin screamed to be touched. The man stared at Hermione for a moment as if looking through her, then half smiled as if he knew just how fast her heart was racing. He waved casually with the hand not holding a glass of expensive wine, then had the audacity to wink.

Hermione nearly dropped the magazine. There was no way that could be Snape, even with the customary Witch's Weekly scrawl of XOXO Severus across the page. To his credit, the handwriting looked annoyed. "Who are you imposter?" She glared at the page. The man in the photo paused his cocky flirtations and stared back, as if given pause. Finally, he took the robe half draped over the couch and wrapped it back around his unbuttoned shirt, glowering at Hermione with a familiar sneer.

She tucked the magazine into her purse almost in shock. "It is Snape," she whispered.

"Of course it is." Ginny nodded as if it was the purest truth of the world. "But we should finish up and head over to Hogsmeades. My treat for butterbeer!"

* * *

Time calls sweetly

Give it wine

Time calls haunting

Give it mead

Time calls thirsty

Give it sand

Time calls angered

Give it blood

~from "Nursery Rhymes & Cradle Songs of the Ancient and Esteemed Houses", purchasable in Knockturn Alley at Tomes & Terrors for a mere 1682 galleons, 3 sickles, and 23 knuts.


	2. The Wind Blows at Home

**Chapter Two: The Wind Blows at Home**

* * *

"Just were you last night, Arnold Anthony Granger?" Amarita clenched her fingers about the rims and rolled her wheelchair over to the table. Her husband sat perusing the classifieds, re-dunking a half-eaten donut into his coffee for the ninth time.

"Just out," He groaned and finally took a bite of the soggy confection and grimaced. "The coffee's cold."

"Probably because you have been sitting there for forty minutes!" Mrs. Granger stole the paper away and tapped Mr. Granger with it.

"I have to find another job." Arnold held a hand to his forehead. "You know how tight things are Mara, it's a blessing Hermione can support herself. What with the medical bills and you out of a job, we will be lucky to keep the house much longer."

"I told you I don't need a big house." Amarita wheeled over to gently knead her husband's back. "We'll survive well enough, all that matters is that I have you." She gave Arnold a kiss. "With you gone all the time, it gets lonely about here."

"I told you, you should email Hermione." Arnold took another bite of cold, sopped donut. "She has the summer off and would make a great companion for you."

Amarita winced. "She still does not know, and I am not about to tell her. I do not want my daughter feeling sorry for me." She had to yet informed Hermione that her 'illness' had taken the form of a highly progressive neurological collapse. A month ago, her legs had grown too weak to carry her, and recently her grip was shaky as well.

"Well it's your decision." Arnold said a mite too harshly and stood, taking back the paper and stuffing it into his jacket. "I am going out for a bit."

"Again?" Mara pleaded, "Please stay."

"I may be back late, don't wait up."

The door slammed behind him as he left, leaving Amarita to clear the dishes.

* * *

Three skips forward

Two skips back

One skip sideways

Rabbit Trap!

Turn around

Lie on your back

Two, three hours

Freed from Rack

~ The official chant of the street game 'Rabbit Trap', as publicized in "Blood Legacy: The Once and Future Power in the Age of Decline". Only three copies of this book are known to remain, in the property of private collectors.


	3. Gamble My Heart Away

The door to the Three Broomsticks barely squeaked as Arnold dragged himself through it, so thoroughly had it been oiled.

"Hello Rosmerta." Arnold sighed and dug out a sickle, sliding it across the bar. "Just a butterbeer, I need to keep my wits about me tonight."

"For the big game?" Rosmerta queried, worried for the muggle. He was a squib really, but his magic level had been so low he had never even been allowed a wand. Still, the doors of the Three Broomsticks were always open to him, even if Rosmerta wanted to drive him away so he would not drive himself even deeper in debt. It would never work though, he would just find another place to gamble. She sighed and slid over the frothing glass.

"Yep," Arnold gulped the proffered drink. "Tonight's the night, can feel it. I may not have much magic but I know when I'm feeling lucky."

"That's what you said before that night in Atlantic City." Rosmerta warned.

"Filthy cheaters." Arnold hissed. "Reason I come here, no wizard can cheat."

"True enough." It wasn't just because of wizard law either. She ran a tight establishment, and she was proud of it.

"Anyway, thanks Rosmerta." Arnold put his hood up and walked over to a back table.

"Ah, if it's not our muggle friend." A man at the table sneered. "Come to lose again, have you Granger?"

"Hello to you too, McNair." Arnold sat down heavily and looked over the game. It looked like they were playing with knucklebones, or something equally odd. "No cards today?"

"No." A man with platinum blonde hair smiled coldly. "Today we gamble with bone dice. They are much, more, - elegant."

Arnold assumed the man was Lucias Malfoy. Although he had never met the man personally, his reputation and description preceded him. A small shiver went up his spine, what he knew about the man was not pleasant. The man could be a death eater, for all the tales he heard. Arnold almost took a step back from the table, but the dice caught his eye, gleaming in the strange light of the tavern.

Runes carved into the faces as if they were engraved and polished granite. Arnold swallowed. "Where do they get the bone?"

"Human muggles, of course." Avery informed the dentist pointedly. "This is a wizards game. Played with three seven sided dice. Here," He scrawled out a quick value chart on a napkin. "These is the order of the runes. They correspond to values, every odd number from 1 to 13. Score is the addition of the three, plus 5 points per match and a bonus of 15 for three of a kind."

"Seems simple enough." Arnold nodded.

"There is a beauty in simplicity." Lucias said derisively. "Now gentlemen, and - others, place your bets."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arnold Granger stared at the dice. Perhaps they were cursed? At the beginning of the evening, he had thought his luck was turning after winning the first few rolls. Avery had gone mad and nearly stalked off, annoyed that a muggle was beating him. A few turns after that, Lucius begun to win.

Things had only gone downhill from there. 3, 3, 9. Well, at least he got a bonus for the pair of threes...not enough to beat Lucius though. Even Avery scored higher that round. Arnold wished they had been playing cards: at least cards were not –entirely- based off chance.

He found a tall mug shoved in front of his face and looked up to see Avery's leer.

"Thought you might need something a bit stronger than butterbeer, seeings how your luck is going."

"Thanks." Arnold said blandly, then took a large swig. He mentally calculated just where he was sitting. Mara was going to kill him. The way he figured though, they were already on the verge of bankruptcy. What else could he really lose? He picked up the bones, shuddering at the clammy feel, then rolled them onto the table. Three sevens! Perhaps his luck was changing after all. He collected his winnings, and his grin lasted up until the next turn when Avery cashed in and won the roll.

"Perhaps we should raise the stakes." Lucius breathed, managing to lounge and yet keep his impeccable posture. No beer for him, he drank only a fine red wine, and sparingly at that. "Petty dollars on each roll gets us nowhere." He unclasped a silver bracelet from his arm. "Let's say, two thousand a roll."

Arnold swallowed as Lucius placed the bracelet on the table. "In cash, or collateral. A few wins, and you could be a made man Granger."

Avery swallowed too. "I believe I have urgent business, I have dallied here far too long. Do excuse me, gentlemen."

"Better odds for you." Lucius pointed out. "Only the brave are left."

"I'm in." Granger said resolutely, bidding good riddance to Avery as he left. He rolled the dice, a seven and two elevens. His luck had turned! Lucius rolled poorly, and Granger clasped his hand about the bracelet with a triumphant smile. The game was on.

````````````````````````.``````````````````````````````````````````

At first, Granger had made a stunning recovery. He had the rational thought that he should stop, as his winnings would nearly cover all his debt. But, he was rolling so well! Maybe there was something to these bone dice after all. Despite their dark connotations, Arnold had not done so well at a game in some time.

"I should quit while I am ahead." Granger laughed, yet rolled again anyways. 6,5,5, a decent roll. Lucius casually rolled a 7 and two threes.

"Just a few more rounds." The blonde man smiled slightly. "You have to give me a chance, after all."

"No, my wife will kill me." Arnold forced a laugh. "Besides, I have enough to pay her next medical bill, that's all I need." He reluctantly stood, his fingers itching to roll just once more.

"Perhaps for different stakes, then?" Lucius queried. "Next roll – if you win, I cover ALL your wife's medical bills for the next year." He said the words slowly, drawing the man back in.

"And if I lose?" Arnold swallowed.

"My son – he has been having trouble keeping his head in his school work." Lucius scowled, as if this was hard to say. "Your daughter, I must admit, has some skill in that area. Draco has become increasingly rebellious..." He trailed off for a moment. "Tutoring lessons, twice a week for two hours, over the summer. While I know that girl – Hermione, I mean, dislikes my son, I am sure it would be good for both of them."

"Why not just a trade?" Arnold asked, surprised, mulling it over. Hermione might not like it, but she would definitely do it for her mother.

"Because gambling is so much more fun." Lucius leaned back. "Why would we trade money for money, there is no risk! No rush of victory. And this is such a little thing – no harm to my pocketbook, and barely an inconvenience on your daughter. She takes great enjoyment in showing off her great intellectual prowess, I have heard."

"All right." Arnold finally agreed. "It is for Amara's good after all, I could use the help and you know it."

"Agreed." Lucius nodded and tossed the dice back to Arnold.

With a slight sense of trepidation, Mr. Granger rolled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was some time before Granger stopped to think about what was happening. He was losing. And not just losing, he was losing so thoroughly that it could not be anything in his mind other than a setup, despite that it was impossible to cheat in the Three Broomsticks. His 'luck' had promptly vanished. The dice had betrayed him.

He let out a frustrated sigh. It wasn't just for himself, Hermione was also paying a heavy price. The stakes raised on each roll, as Arnold furiously just hoped for one good roll, double or nothing.

"Three hours, every day. Six on Saturday." Lucius announced the next raise. "If you win, I pay off all of your debt, and all of your wife's medical bills for six years, and I cancel the service of your daughter that I have already won."

"What choice do I have?" Arnold moaned and picked up the dice. He had to win, he just had too! Lucius seemed to want to keep going, offering Arnold a clean slate if he merely won once. No one could have such bad luck! Gritting his teeth, Granger rolled.

3,4,6. Horrid!

Lucius rolled 3 threes, winning the match.

"That's that then." Lucius sat back.

"WHAT?" Arnold cried. "It cannot be! My daughter will hate me – its not like I can tell her what to do anyway, and my wife, what about my wife?" The squib was close to tears now.

Lucius gave him a 'sympathetic' glance. "I have given you so many chances already," He drawled lazily. "We could be at this all night. I have gone beyond the bounds of generosity. There is nothing you have that could cover what I have already won, as your daughter's mind is about the only valuable commodity you possess." He sneered, and Arnold's stomach tightened.

"Take my house, take me even." Arnold really was crying. "I could not make Hermione do anything anyway, she is 21!"

"Oh stop whining." Lucius tapped his cane on the floor. "And of course you can. Any contract you make gambling with these bone dice will hold for her as well, it's blood magic. I would waste my time explaining to an idiot like you."

"Dark magic.." Arnmold said slowly. "What have you done? What have you done to me?"

"No." Lucius replied. "The question is, what have you done? Gambling with the lives of your wife and daughter."

"Please, just one more roll!" Arnold begged. "Anything! I have no money, I am losing my wife – I need your help. I'm begging you."

Lucius did not speak for several moments. "I suppose – on my reputation as a philanthropist. There is one way."

"What?" Arnold dared a look of hope.

"You obviously are not taking care of your family well. I can make you an offer that will benefit us both, win or lose."

"What?" Granger asked again.

"If you win, I will pay off all your debt, and cover all of the care of your wife for the rest of her life. You will never gamble in a game again." Lucius looked at him coldly.

Arnold swallowed. "That, seems fair. And if I lose?"

"I will help you in another way. I will take your daughter off your hands. She will become my ward and my responsibility. I will pay for all her schooling needs and she will stay with me. I will pay off your debt on the promise that you will never gamble in a game again, and while I will not help with your wife's care, you will be free of your gambling addiction and debt and can help her on your own. You also will not have to worry about your daughter's expensive and insatiable need for schooling."

"Why..." Arnold felt himself begin to grow suspicious. Why did he have such an interest in his daughter, anyway? It seemed to go much beyond wanting a tutor for Draco.

"It is the best offer I can give. It is more than fair." Lucius stated with finality.

"It IS more than fair." Arnold conceded.

"Are you going to roll?" A voice interrupted drolly. "I so love a good game."

"Nice of you to join us, Severus." Lucius smiled thinly. "Your sarcasm is as refreshing as ever. Will you take my offer, Arnold?"

"My daughter for my wife?" Arnold hunched his shoulders.

"But your daughter is not in danger of dying." Lucius sat back. "And think, I can give her the schooling of her dreams! Or, if you win, all your troubles are over. You can all live...happily ever after."

Arnold stared blankly in front of him. "Give me the dice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Penny is bright

But Penny is small

Bury with Pete

And she'll get tall

Found in "Riddle Ryhmes of the Elder Houses". This handwritten manuscript is held in a vault at Gringott's when not temporarily loaned out on request to a wizarding scholar or group of proper credentials.


	4. A New Competitor

Some ten minutes later, Arnold Granger stared bleakly into the men's room talking mirror.

"Bad luck?" It queried cheerfully.

"I just gambled away, my daughter..." He breathed out slowly. "Maybe, her being 21, it won't be legal.."

"Daughter, eh? That's new." The mirror yawned.

"He rolled three sixes! 6 6 6 – Who has that good of luck? Bloody uncanny. I rolled a one and a two and a three, the lowest score one can get."

The mirror scrutinized Arnold's nose hairs. "So what now? Therapy? Drinking? A dramatic leap from a tall bridge?"

"You're just asking to be broken, aren't you?" Arnold glared for a second, then sighed. "I will go home, and tell my wife that our debts have been paid, and that I will never gamble at cards or dice again."

"And your daughter?"

"Hermione." The man sighed. "I will tell her that the Malfoy's have decided to take her in and give her the schooling of her dreams. And that..." He paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "It's not a choice."

~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus watched the muggle lose with a tight half smile. He wouldn't have bet on Granger to begin with, but the way Malfoy had won was indeed uncanny. When at last Arnold left the table, Snape did not give the beaten man so much as a nod of acknowledgment, let alone sympathy. It was a strange turn of events. Why would Lucius want to take in the Granger girl? Politics? After the Dark Lord's fall, Lucius had slowly been re-climbing the social ladder and courting favor. Sponsoring the girl would be a very publicized act of good will. But keeping her at the Manor? She could tutor Draco, true – the boy had potential but was too ambitious for his own good. He concentrated more on parties and networking than studying, and his grades were failing to live up to his earlier promise. Add to that, the boy had always despised Granger, and Draco would likely reform quickly just to escape her presence. Still, did not add up.

Unless...

Snape's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Lucius had become the Dark Lord's closest confidant prior to the last battle. His apprentice, even, and more. Malfoy had once bragged, after a drunken night of torturing muggles, that even should the Dark Lord fall, he should rise again – in a form even more powerful, and that Lucius himself would be the key.

At the Last Death Eater meeting, the night before Dumbledore's army and the Aurors engaged Voldemort's followers, Voldemort had called Lucius up and performed a spell. The masked man had knelt before the hideous creature, kissing his hand as something dark and dank flowed into Lucious's heart. The deathly aura was so palpable, assaulting his mind, cloying on his skin and clothes, even Snape had had difficulty repressing a shudder. Malfoy's wife, Narcissa, had then come forward to be sacrificed. She took a dagger to the heart, willingly, or at least somewhat willingly, as the Death Eater's cheered.

Lucius had stood, and then Voldemort had rasped so quietly that only Snape and a few others could hear...

"Take only the strongest. She must pass all others."

Then the preparations for the fighting had begun...

~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus snapped back to the present moment. He found himself sliding into the seat across the smug Malfoy.

"Oh, do you want to play too, Sevvy?" Lucius smiled, caressing his dice.

Snape's cheek twitched at the horrid nickname, but otherwise he remained impassive. "Yes, I think I shall have a roll."

"Your stakes?" Lucius queried.

"I think..." Snape paused, inwardly tense, "I want the girl."

~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightingale sings inside its cage

Nightingale trills a merry tune

"Docent" says the boy with key

Nightingale sings no more

~An english translation of the Street-Game "Nightengale", as transcribed by the late Professor Axavius Slytherin in "Blood Legacy: The Once and Future Power in the Age of Decline". Only three copies of this book are known to remain, in the property of private collectors.


	5. Marked

Hermione laughed, putting down her butterbeer. She had barely touched hers, while Ginny was going back for a third.

"The point is to relax." Ginny justified her habits, taking a gulp to emphasize. "We deserve to let loose a bit, especially you. Do you ever relax?"

"Of course, that's one reaons I love books so much!" Hermione leaned back in her seat. "They can carry you away anywhere, open your mind, make you forget all your stress."

"I might believe you if you read only fantasy novels, but you read mostly non-fiction and take notes on everything you read."

"I read fiction too." Hermione insisted. "And if I write notes, its because I think that there is information to be found even in the most fantastical world. And -"

"What was that last part? - Hermione?" Ginny tapped her friend's shoulder, but the other girl was unresponsive, her breathing shallow. "Don't tell me you're allergic to beer?"

Hermione came to with a deep breath, gasping for air. "There was -" She faltered, trying to find the words to describe it. "It felt so strange, like a tugging inside. Or the universe shifting a few feet within my heart."

"Odd." Ginny scratched one calf with her sandaled foot. "I think I'm going to need a margaurita. Obviously you're getting drunk faster than I am, on butterbeer fumes no less."

"I'm serious." Hermione felt at her hip. "My wand is even warm." She bit her lip. "Do you feel anything? Like something in the world has changed, something big, without us knowing?"

"Now that you mention it..." Ginny pursed her lips. "I have this weird feeling...OH NO THE SKY IS FALLING!"

Hermione jumped and Ginny laughed.

"No, really." Hermione's face paled. "It's like it just got colder." She rubbed her collarbone thoughtfully.

Ginny closed her eyes and swirled the liquid in her glass, her breath slowing. "Nothing. I don't feel anything."

"Well I do." Hermione stood and started fanning herself with her hand.

"I thought you said it was cold?" Ginny smirked.

"Well it's hot now." Hermione frowned and unbuttoned her blouse a couple of buttons. Sweeping her bushy hair back she turned to Ginny in agitation. "I feel like I am being pulled somewhere, only I don't know where to go..."

"Mione!" Ginny jumped, splashing her alcohol on her skirt. "When did you get THAT?" She stared at her baffled friend.

"Get that tattoo!" Ginny shrieked in excitement. "I want one! Is it magical?"

Hermione looked to where Ginny was pointing and gasped. In the center of her chest, between her collar bone and cleavage, was a family Crest about two inches high. She touched it briefly, and drew her hand back with tingling fingers. It did not seem inked, but rather a part of her skin. "Wha...?" She blinked questioningly. "Ginny this is no tattoo, it might be dark magic!" She gave a small cry, her mind going to the worst possible scenarios.

~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape frowned as Lucius took his sweet time playing with the dice. What in Merlin's name would he do if he won? Take the girl back to his manor and make her scrub cauldron's all summer? He could find things for the girl to do, she was smart. And during the school year he could send her off to some college, she would no doubt love that. But she was always asking questions! And never the right ones. She relied on books far too much, scoffing at anything experimental. And while he knew the importance of following directions, he was always looking for ways to improve. There was a reason he was considered one of the top Potion's Masters in the world.

Lucius quirked a brow, "So, why do you want Hermione? Lonely in that large house of yours? I suppose even a girl of her tainted...pedigree...would be a good lay."

Snape coughed and nearly snorted firewhiskey out his nose. "She is good with potions. An assistant, especially one I do not have to supervise, would be valuable."

Lucius shrugged. "Not that it matters. My luck is formidable." He smiled, and for the second time in a row rolled 6, 6, 6.

"I can see that." Snape drew in a breath. He would owe Lucius a lot of money if he lost, but he was more worried about Malfoy's plan for the Granger girl. He could tell the die were full of dark magic, and despite the anti-cheating wards in the bar, Lucius must have some sort of bond with them. 'Wrapped in night, carved of death, rested in the blood, formed of fright'...Snatches of a dark children's rhyme ran across his memory. 'Turn the Die and watch the toll, Blood will coat death's favored Roll'. Something like that. It was a wizarding jump rope rhyme that ran in many of the older families.

Snape picked up the dice and rolled them one by one, as he preferred to do. He rarely gambled, but he had never lost at dice or cards. Quidditch bets were another matter entirely, he noted sourly.

7.

7.

"Well Lucius." Snape released the last die with a flick of his wrist. "It seems Miss Granger's future depends on the turn of this die."

The bone die rolled to a stop, and Lucius's face went white in rage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carved of Death

Wrapped in Night

Rested in the Blood

Formed of Fright

Turn the Die

Watch the Toll

Blood will Coat

Death's favored Roll


	6. Mystery

"It cannot be that bad." Ginny insisted, even as Hermione was tearing through another shelf of books in Flourish and Blott's. So much for her pleasant afternoon of relaxing.

"I have seen this design before.." Hermione muttered, pulling a book of Wizard family lines off the shelf and paging through it. "It is like an insignia. Purebloods usually have one professionally designed when they come of age."

"But its so pretty!" Ginny clapped her hands, looking at the intricate scrollwork.

"Pretty?" Hermione stared at her in disbelief. "That's like saying you want a Dark Mark tattoo 'cause it looks cool." Hermione slowed down, as she came across the motto scrolled at the bottom of the crest. "Right motto, wrong design though..." She muttered and moved on.

"What do you think it means?" Ginny bit her lip.

"Nothing good." Hermione swallowed. "I found it." She held up the page for Ginny to see.

"LUCIAS MALFOY!" Ginny shouted, causing other customers to stare.

"Yes..." Hermione was troubled, but then she felt another tug. The tugging sensation grew, and as she looked down she saw, instead of the crest, writhing whirls of 'ink' on her chest, as if the design was warring with itself. Her breaths grew more shallow as her chest tightened. "Can't breathe..." She gasped, and Ginny knelt to help her, dragging Hermione outside into the fresh air. The person behind the counter looked disapprovingly at the haphazard pile of books on the floor they left behind.

"We should get you to the doctor." Ginny said worriedly, while running her wand up and down Hermione in a general first aid scan. Nothing seemed to come up.

"I can breathe now." Hermione sat up, her eyes shut tight. "This is all so strange!"

"Ooooooooooh." Ginny said. "It's back!"

Hermione opened her eyes and scrutinized the Crest mark. "No, it's different." Hermione bit her lip, staring at it. It was so familiar- "I think I've seen this before, somewhere."

"Should we go back in and find whose it is?"

"No need to." Hermione stood, jerking her hand away from the mark. "It's professor Snape's."

And with a pop, to Ginny's surprise and horror, Hermione disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~

"Well Lucius, it seems your luck has turned." Severus glanced down at his three sevens, more than a bit surprised himself.

Lucius looked enraged, though his anger seemed more focused on the dice than on Severus. "You do not know what you have done." The blonde growled, standing and collecting his things. "One more roll!"

"Now now Lucius." Snape drawled. "What could you possibly have to offer me?"

"I could get you a hundred girls, all more beautiful than that wench. I can arrange it - you could do things to them, whatever lies in that black pit of yours, and no one would know or care."

"You are quite desperate, Malfoy." Snape stood as well. "I will see you again soon, I am sure." Briskly, he turned from the room, noting an itch on his right thigh but maintaining his posture and heading. Leaving the pub, he shook the tension from his shoulders and apparated to a spot near Hogsmeade Village.

There was a jarring motion that disurbed him as he landed, and then a crash.

"Whaa?" He heard a woman's voice cry out.

"Apologies Madam." Snape recovered his footing and held a hand out. He must have apparated too near the witch, although usually apparating made allowances for nearby people.

"What the hell is going on?"

Snape felt his hand being grabbed in a death grip. Reflexively he dropped into a stance, ready to fight back as he turned to face the woman. "Her...Miss Granger?" Snape's eyes widened and Hermione was rewarded with a look of genuine shock. From her half unbuttoned blouse he could see his own insignia branded on her chest, similar to his own dark mark had been. Quickly, he threw his outer cloak at her. "Cover that up." He ordered, realizing there was little time to think things through, and even less to get out without being seen.

Hermione found herself obeying, clasping the cloak about her neck even as she was puzzling things out.

"This way Miss Granger." Snape ordered, and Hermione felt she had no other option but to follow him down a familiar path – to Hogwarts.

~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~

Baby's crying

All alone

Mother far away

Don't bring milk

And don't bring toys

But mix a lock with clay

~from "Nursery Rhymes & Cradle Songs of the Ancient and Esteemed Houses", purchasable in Knockturn Alley at Tomes & Terrors for a mere 1682 galleons, 3 sickles, and 23 knuts.


	7. Illusions

Hermione had always been curious as to how Snape exited Hogwarts for his Death Eater meetings, and now she knew. The 'secret passageway' was remarkably unremarkable. In fact, it was not even that hidden. But then, one end being the shed by Mrs. Sprout's compost heap, where the students dumped all manner of rotten plants, and the other end being Snape's private quarters, she could see why the students had not discovered it yet.

She was very quiet the whole way, and found herself shivering despite the warm cloak she was wrapped in. She tried to force herself to go over everything she had read about such insignia marks, but her mind stubbornly refused to work.

Instead, Hermione, almost dumbfounded, followed her former professor.

Professor Snape seemed in a great hurry. As soon as he got to his quarters, and before Hermione could comment on the minimalistic décor or the shelves of books, Snape was packing. It seemed merely a wave of his hand and a muttered spell sent all his essentials as well as many of the books into his bags. Grasping Hermione by the elbow, he dragged her down the corridor into his private potion's lap. "Help me." He ordered, then began to scourgify various cauldrons and put up dangerous ingredients.

Hermione dazedly started on the other end, scourgifying the cauldrons and amazed at the waste of potions. There were some here she would love to try her hand at brewing!

At one potion he stopped her, noting it was finished, and quickly bottled it up. In a matter of a few minutes the entire lab was clean and appeared as if no one had been working there at all.

"We must leave this place quickly." Severus tapped his nose, appearing most disgruntled. "The paintings will have already reported our arrival."

Rushing her back out of the room and down the halls, Hermione noted that there were less paintings in the dungeons than elsewhere in the castle. "What?" She started to ask, by Snape silenced her with a look.

"Do not speak unless you must." He warned her, and all too soon Hermione found herself being dragged down the oh-so-secret passage.

Scrunching her nose against the smell of the compost heap, she found Snape nearly running, well, 'walking briskly', off the grounds. Once outside the wards, her apparated without so much as a warning, and she was dragged along with.

~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~

"It is a good thing Dumbledore is on holiday." Snape turned to her, though seeming more to look through her than at her. "He would have demanded to know what was going on."

"Just what IS going on?" Hermione stamped her foot, glaring, as soon as she regained her composure. Side along apparation was never fun to begin with, and being yanked into it made it even rougher.

"If I knew exactly, I would tell you, if it would keep you quiet." Snape sighed, then held out his hand. "Give me back my cloak, and button that blouse of yours. That is a mark we want no one to see."

Hermione complied, flushing as she re-buttoned the top few buttons under his calculating appraisal of the mark.

"It was Lucius's Crest, before it turned to yours..." Hermione said quietly, looking around at the wide open fields they were standing on -anything to avoid his frank stare.

"Yes, I would assume so." Snape growled. "But we should retire to the Manor before we discuss theories and plans of action."

"The Manor?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, my Manor." He took two steps forward and held his hand out. The air seemed to ripple, as if he was touching a portal. "Through here."

He motioned Hermione through, and she felt like she was passing through a wall of soothing liquid. On the other side, she found that the illusion of the fields was hiding an amazing mansion and well kept gardens. Fountains and flowers were everywhere! She stepped forward, gasping in awe at the sight. What was this place?

"I see your hair is still as bushy as ever." An amused voice intoned behind her.

With a cry of dismay, Hermione found that the spells on her hair to make it at least appear manageable had come undone.

"I can brew you a gel to help with it, I suppose." Snape offered, and Hermione turned to look at him. "Glamors do not work here."

"Bloody Hell!" She blushed and clamped her hand over her mouth. He looked like he came strait from the pages of Witch's Weekly! Well, a bit older and more haggard, and his nose was still too large, but in all he had gone from a greasy bat to some dark hero from a Gothic romance novel.

"Contain yourself, Miss Granger." Snape growled, running a hand back through his sleek hair. "I am no Mr. Darcy."

~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~

Bought by Bone

Bought by Blood

Yet we are not Complete

Mad by the Hour

Bonds turn Sour

Power Grows Replete

Dare not spurn

Or deeper burn

But rather two crests meet

_Found in "Riddle Ryhmes of the Elder Houses". This handwritten manuscript is held in a vault at Gringott's when not temporarily loaned out on request to a wizarding scholar or group of proper credentials._

_Also found in "Nursery Rhymes & Cradle Songs of the Ancient and Esteemed Houses" purchasable in Knockturn Alley at Tomes & Terrors for a mere 1682 galleons, 3 sickles, and 23 knuts. _


	8. Tea?

Tea.

It was very odd and bizarre, but there Hermione was, having 'tea' with her most loathed professor. Snape himself was very quiet, though he seemed to be eating a more than proprietary amount of the tiny tea sandwiches.

Hermione nibbled on a cucumber sandwich, more for the novelty of it and for something to do than out of hunger.

"This is a most disturbing set of events." Snape drawled slowly, followed by downing his tea a bit too briskly. His face was blank but Hermione could feel that he was on edge.

"I'll say." Hermione wrinkled her nose, attempting to wrestle her hair back into a ponytail. "First I find out you're a playboy, then I get branded by some weird Malfoy Mark, then next thing I know I am yanked through the air and now I am drinking tea with professor Snape." She grunted, her hair finally tied back. "Who lives in a mansion no less!"

"Manor." He corrected, then started, "What's this about me being a playboy?"

"Witch's Weekly Most Eligible Bachelor." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was disturbing."

"I am sure it was." Snape stiffened, mutilating a scone. "I suppose we should begin our research into this series of dark events by comparing our versions of events."

"Sensible." Hermione agreed.

"Am I ever not?" He sneered, refilling his tea.

Having never seen her Professor eat much, Hermione was a bit surprised at the the almost ravenous manner he was attacking his tea and crumpets. He did it with elegant grace and perfect etiquette, but at such a speed she could quite tell he was not very settled. On the other hand, what they were eating was not very filling. How 'sensible' could he truly be, choosing an attempt at etiquette over actual food when he was hungry?

"You go first." She laughed lightly at the absurdity, biting into a second sandwich.

"This is no laughing matter." He bristled. Pushing his food away, sensing it was the source of some foul bemusement for her, he stared out the window and composed his thoughts. He could hear a rustle as Hermione pulled out a quill and parchment and immediately adopted 'earnest pupil' mode.

"Taking notes?" He asked, not turning around. "You really are perpetual student." He did not know whether to be impressed that she was not just studious for grades, or extremely annoyed that he could not accurately call her a 'Dunderhead'. He opted for the latter. Turning back to face her squarely, he began. "A little over seventy minutes ago, I entered the Three Broomsticks to pick up some firewhiskey."

"Firewhiskey?" Hermione queried, with a slightly disapproving look he did not much appreciate.

"For a potion." He amended, looking down his aquiline nose at her. It wasn't entirely false, he always did get an extra bottle to bring back for potions. "Malfoy, Avery, McNair and another were gambling in one of the back corners. On closer inspection, the fourth man I had not seen before, though his features were oddly familiar. I questioned Rosmerta, and she identified him as a squib who sometimes frequented the tavern – one Arnold Granger."

"Dad?" Hermione squeaked, then took a sip of tea to recover. "A squib? I suspected, but he never said anything."

"Apparently his magic level is so low that he only barely meets the qualifications to be considered a squib." Snape added with some smugness. He sat straighter, intimidated by Hermione's glare. "And as I was saying, he was gambling with a crowd that could only politely be called 'unsavory'."

"I thought dad kicked his gambling problem years ago." Hermione sighed, letting the pause drag on until Snape pointedly set his cup down a hair too hard. "Oh, please continue."

"Please maintain focus on the subject at hand." Snape admonished, pleased as Hermione blushed bright red in shame. She really did live to please her teachers. He grimaced - that train of thought seemed to go someplace very dark very easily. Hermione, apparently believing him very angry, cowered in her seat. He decided to let her squirm for a moment, then went on, "Avery and McNair left – I believe Lucius had upped the stakes too far for their liking. In avoiding their notice, I ended up closer to the table. They were gambling with bone dice, a particularly fine set that radiated with dark magic. I was only mildly curious, until I heard your name mentioned."

"My name?" Hermione asked with wide eyes.

"No, Bhudda's." Snape rolled his eyes. Hermione blushed again. He smirked: sometimes, it was almost too easy. "I eavesdropped. They were betting with unusual stakes. Lucius was offering payment for intense medical care on his end, and Mr. Granger was offering your 'tutoring' services as collateral on his end. I assume it was Lucius's idea, he claimed to want you to tutor Draco."

"Tutor – Medical bills?" Hermione stuttered. "What medical bills? And why…"

"We will get to questions later." Snape sternly interrupted her.

"Yes sir." Hermione bit her lip.

"Right now lets stick to our individual experiences. Granger was losing terribly, and Lucius seemed to want to stop. Granger begged him for one last roll, and Lucius laid terms. If Granger won, Lucius would pay for all of Mrs. Granger's medical costs until her death."

Hermione looked at him intently, nearly bursting. He could guess the question she was fighting with all her pride not to ask.

"If he lost, you would become his ward."

Hermione jumped up, knocking over one of the trays. "Can -" She clamped a hand over her mouth. He almost laughed, she really was trying.

"Can what?"

"Can Mr. Malfoy make a bet like that? Regarding me?"

"Not usually, but due to the binding nature of bone dice – yes. This is where I come in. I joined the table to watch."

"And I am guessing my father lost."

"Without question." Snape took an uncharacteristic swig of tea, and Hermione wondered if he had spiked it when she was not looking. "He lost so completely, it was if the dice were rigged."

"But that's impossible…magic gambling prevents cheating…"

"You would think." Snape agreed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noticed that she was rephrasing her questions into statements. "I could only surmise Lucius had some dark plot in mind, so I offered to play. He made some –comments I took issue with, but agreed." Snape paused, recalling Lucius's jibe that the Granger girl would be a 'good lay'. He snorted, she probably had sex like a textbook. A very boring but well bound textbook.

"That must have been when I received Lucius's mark." Hermione shivered, putting two and two together. If she was now with Snape, that must mean that originally, she would have apparated to where Lucius was. The thought was somehow even less welcome than her current situation. Better the devil you know, perhaps?

Snape cleared his throat. "Most likely. Considering you did not appear immediately at the table, the bi-the apparation must have taken a few minutes."

"We had time to get from the Hog's Head to Flourish and Blott's before Mr. Malfoy's mark disappeared. Your's was...faster."

Snape got the sense that he should keep talking, as Hermione was flushing in a peculiar way. He doubted she even noticed it, and he would prefer it to stay that way. "Interesting." He commented, "Perhaps your body adapted faster the second time."

She now looked startled, interested, and curious, which was preferable to shy and embarassed.

"Lucius was completely certain he would win." Snape continued his tale, "He again rolled a very high score, the same set he had beaten Granger with. I admit I had very little chance of winning." He added pointedly, "Nor did I have the desire to, beyond foiling whatever Lucius's plans were. I am not quite sure how it happened really, but I won. The bet was on single roll. I rolled the highest score possible."

"So you won…..me…" Hermione breathed at last.

He hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. Was that acceptance of the situation, or something else? He was tempted to use legilimency on her.

She looked up, her eyes a bit bigger than they usually were when he was around. "So, I am your ward now?"

"I think it goes beyond that." Snape tapped his thigh where it itched. "Being an adult, 'ward' can have a different meaning. An old meaning, one your father probably would not have known."

"Which is?"

He steeled himself for the coming reaction. "Given the mark on your chest, I believe we are bound."

* * *

The moon has waned

The river has dried

The sun has bloomed

The blood is high

_Found in "Riddle Ryhmes of the Elder Houses". This handwritten manuscript is held in a vault at Gringott's when not temporarily loaned out on request to a wizarding scholar or group of proper credentials._


	9. Notes, and More Notes

"Bound?" Hermione asked quizzically, with some trepidation, "As in, married?"

"Merlin, no!" Snape responded hastily. "While the term is frequent in ancient texts, there is little detailing it. From what I surmise, it is similar to indentured servitude."

"So I'm a slave?" Her voice rose slightly and squeaked.

"No, well, perhaps." Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "It seems to limit choice somewhat, or rather subjects the ward to commands of the binder."

"So Lucius would…" Hermione trailed off, choking in on itself.

"This is all conjecture. There has not been a case in hundreds of years, and perhaps here merely meant 'ward' in the traditional sense, though your mark belies that."

"Do you have a mark?" Hermione asked suddenly as Snape wove away the tea-set. (Actually, he sent it back down to the Under-kitchen with the house-elves, but decided not to mention that to Hermione, lest he get a lecture and a pamphlet for SPEW).

"No.." Snape said firmly, then paused. Did he? He rubbed the spot on his thigh that had started hurting earlier. "Perhaps. I will check later."

"Why not now?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "What, you want to see me naked that badly?"

Hermione flushed. "Um no, that's ok, later is fine. Maybe we should do some tests on this 'command' thing."

"Fair enough." Snape got up and stretched, rather like a cat. A snarky cat, anyway. "Don't touch any book on that shelf." Snape pointed, and Hermione got up and went over to the shelf. Pointedly, she took a book down and flipped through it. "Hmmm." Snape pondered. "That's good, nothing happened."

"Well good, I am not going to be anyone's servant." Hermione flipped her hair a bit petulantly. "So you cannot order me around."

"We still do not know that or not. However, as it looks like you are in no danger of me accidentally ordering you to go jump in a lake, we can move on. You still have not told your detailed version of events…

"Oh right." Hermione sat back down. "Well it started when Ginny and I were thumbing through old magazines…"

As Hermione told her tale, Snape was looking over the bookshelves, pulling out a volume here and there. He was paying attention, but as his memory was photographic he had no need to take copious amounts of notes. Hermione was still taking notes, even as she was talking. When she finished, he laid the books down on the table.

"These are older volumes, two of them legal codes and provisions specifically dealing with family guardianship." He explained.

"The third?" Hermione stroked the books thoughtfully, eyes wide as if noting their value.

"Nursery rhymes." He replied. "Darker nursery rhymes, most from the Middle Ages or before."

"You think nursery rhymes will help us?"

"Lucius was using bone dice. Certain bone dice of legend were imbued with great power, and passed down through family lines. Often the secrets of their power would be coded into a nursery rhyme and taught to even the youngest of children so that even should the adults of a family be killed, their artifacts of power could still be used by the next generation. At this juncture, any avenue should be explored."

Hermione seemed suitably impressed and picked up the nursery rhyme book, leafing through it. On one of the pages she stiffened and shuddered, dropping it. "It's dark…"

"Yes, this is one book you would never find in Flourish and Blott's." Snape almost smiled at her consternation. "Now, I am going to take a shower. Feel free to peruse these books, and take notes…and more notes…"

Hermione stuck her tongue out as he retreated, then picked up her quill and one of the legal books. There was no way she was going to read that creepy dark 'nursery rhyme' book. The thing was illustrated!

* * *

A toad freshly kissed

A comb full of hair

And a new apple

Red as blood, red as blood

_~from "Nursery Rhymes & Cradle Songs of the Ancient and Esteemed Houses", purchasable in Knockturn Alley at Tomes & Terrors for a mere 1682 galleons, 3 sickles, and 23 knuts._


	10. Blood Ward

Three skips forward

Two skips back

One skip sideways

Rabbit Trap!  
Turn around

Lie on your back

In three hours

You'll be back

____________________________________

Snape traced the mark on his thigh in resignation. Perhaps it had been a foolish hope to expect nothing to be there - but the last thing he wanted was yet another brand upon his skin. Even if Voldemort's Dark Mark had dulled since his downfall, it was still visible against his arm - a constant reminder of his subservience. Snape turned on the water, finding momentary distraction in the cold blast. He stared at the mark again, glowering. Had it been his own crest, he might have forgiven it - but it seems the crest came with 'modification'. The motto and insignia were the same, but the eagle in the center was clutching an orchid in its claws. He held his arm against his thigh, looking at his faded mark against the fresh one. What if they were not entirely dissimilar?

____

Hermione felt like her head was pounding. Usually studying and note taking was interesting, but for some reason she couldn't concentrate. Her mark kept itching - not horribly, but just enough that she was constantly aware of its presence. And to add to the wierdness, she was keenly aware of Snape's proximity. The noise from the shower was driving her nuts, even though it was barely audible. Or perhaps, it was driving her nuts because it was barely audible. "I have got to get out of here." Hermione bemoaned,  
knowing that it was probably wishful thinking unless they found away to break whatever strange bond had been put on them. Perhaps it would be as simple as Snape choosing to release her or finding the right spell.

Hermione finished reading the sections on parent's rights and childrens' rights, finally getting to the part on special cases towards the end of one of the books. "On Wards and their rights..." That looked promising... Hermione smiled, but upon further reading was disappointed. The only mention made of a mark was that in some families a purposeful crest was branded or an optional mark requested - never an automatic one. However, wards were to live with their guardians. Guardians provided for the wards, and could directly influence a ward's life such as who they could marry or where they went to school if they chose. Guardian's could impose house rules, but could not endanger a ward's life. Once married, a ward was free. (Unless married to the guardian, which often happened.)

She had mixed feelings about a lot of that. If she was in some form of wardship contract with Snape, and he abused it, then he could make her life miserable. But then, he was hardly the type. If he let her continue as she pleased, then it might not be a problem at all, and they could really just ignore everything that had happened. Right? Somehow she was having a hard time convincing herself.  
Hermione turned the page, and tried not to choke.

"On Blood Wards:

In the history of Wizardry there have only been a handful of documented Blood Ward cases. While it has never been forbidden, perhaps because in all instances the guardians involved have been very well known and powerful wizards, it is frowned upon in all circles of polite society. In the fifteenth century Sir Alesan Graner compiled a tome "Bond of Power" rumored to detail this practice. While little information survives, it is clear that a blood ward contract involves much more than standard guardianship. A guardian can use select commands with the force of an Imperio curse, compel his ward to apparate to his side, and impose guidelines upon the wardship depending on how the binding was formed."

"Well, that's vague!" Hermione huffed. But it did seem to be on the right track. Perhaps Snape would know how to get a hold of this 'Bond of Power' book? She looked over the paragraph again. The bit about apparation made it sound like the dark mark, but the rest didn't quite fit. Maybe they were related somehow though. The shower was still running in the other room. Hermione got up, agitated. How was she supposed to focus?

Pacing, she rubbed at her mark through her shirt, wandering closer to the shower. Just how long was he going to take? She wanted to tell him what she had found.

________

"Sweet Merlin." Snape cursed. The itching was getting worse, and the cold water wasn't helping. Neither was scrubbing furiously at the offensive spot. Stepping out of the shower, Snape dried himself and pulled on his robe. He flicked his fingers and a house elf appeared.

"Howz can Tizzy serve?"

Snape glared and it simpered. "Get the anti-itch cream from the medical stores."

"Right away sirz." It vanished and reappeared momentarily with a small jar. Snape took it roughly. "You can go."

"Thank you sirz." Tizzy popped out, for which Severus was grateful, and he got to work applying the cream to his thigh. He leaned back as the cream settled in, the cool lotion soothing the itch and taking away the tingle.

At least momentarily. A yelp from nearby cued him in that he was not alone in his predicament. Severus got up, muttering another stream of curses under his breath. The itch had come back, only now it had progressed to more of a maddening burn. He opened the shower door and stared down his nose at a surprised Hermione. "And exactly why are you nosing about?" Snape's nostril's flared. There were some disturbing sensations going about that he couldn't quite place.

"I..I found something..." She stammered."

"And you what? Were so excited you were going to walk in on me in the shower? I'm touched." Snape started to push past her in annoyance, then stopped as he noted that when his hand touched her shoulder the burning in his thigh eased up slightly. She'd swallowed a bit too. Snape examined her more closely - clutching her shirt tightly, and she was perspiring. "Having trouble?" His voice was much harder than his words.

"My mark is burning rather badly." Hermione looked down, somewhat embarrassed. At first Snape thought it was the admission that pained her, then realized that he was standing next to her with his hand on her shoulder, clad in nothing but a bathrobe. Circumstances aside, she was just a witch. He was almost amused.

"Bought by Bone, bought by blood, yet we are not complete..." Snape repeated a fragment of poetry, leaving Hermione and heading for the table with the book.

"What??" She followed after, curious, confused, and not liking the mark's increased fury in his absence.

"Here." Snape showed her the page out of the nursery rhyme book with the poem.

Bought by Bone Bought by Blood Yet we are not complete Mad by the Hour Bonds turn Sour Power Grows Replete Dare not spurn Or deeper burn But rather two crests meet

"I am not sure I like the connotations of that." Hermione said skeptically.

"It could be quite literal." Snape responded matter of factly. "Simply touching our marks together. We have already noticed that touching eases off the irritation. Of course, if you find it too akward, and would rather continue on as you are, I could always note your protestation before pinning you down. I have no wish to continue on in this manner."

"You bloody boggart, have you no consideration? We haven't even looked at that book yet! It might have another solution entirely!"

"What book?"

"Bond of Power, By Sir Alesan Graner." Hermione said smugly. "It is supposed to tell everything there is to know about Blood Wards and bondings."

"Good luck." Snape said dismissively. "There is only one copy of that book in existence, and it's impossible to get ahold of. I searched for it for years."

"Ohhhh." Hermione pouted. "Rotten luck."

"Yes." Snape advanced on her, slightly menacing. "Rotten luck."

"Don't!" She squealed unconvincingly. "I'll hex you!"

"You could try." Snape shrugged, toppling Hermione to the floor as she got off a poorly aimed hex that turned a lampshade in the corner into a frog...for a second. "Power grows replete....I expect both our magic is being dimmed by this. Do you really want to take that chance?" He looked down at her, and he very much was amused this time by the way she wouldn't even look at him. He considered the situation and his positioning, and while it might be fun to embarrass Hermione some more, he really did want to fix things. However, their marks were in awkward places. Snape moved his hands up to her blouse, tugging the top buttons apart. "Oh, stop squealing." He shook his head. "You'd think I was up to no good." He rather wished his robe covered more of him, but under the circumstances, it did allow him to remain covered while leaving his thigh exposed.

Crawling up her, which was not as entirely unpleasant as he had expected, Snape pressed his thigh to the mark just above her breasts. Highly awkward, he hoped it was not an experience he would have to repeat, especially as other parts of him were pressing against her that he would rather not. But the change was instantaneous. The burning stopped, and after a moment, he felt a surge of power run through him. Hermione gasped - it was probably safe to say that she felt the same thing.

He rolled off, wrapping his robe around him tightly. "Better?"

"Yes." She squeaked, quite flushed.

Snape rolled his eyes.

Witches.


	11. Awakened

"Expensive american doctors." Mr. Granger sighed. There hadn't been a problem until they'd started consulting overseas for treatment, and he hadn't the credit to look into wizarding treatment. On the bright side, however, when he went to the bank this morning he found that all his debts had indeed been paid off. Arnold shuddered to think what that meant for Hermione. The ward of Lucius Malfoy? But it appeared Malfoy was true top his word, for in angry scrawls his signiture was over several papers covering debts both fresh and ancient. Some Arnold had forgotten he even had.

He would be lying if he said that part of him was not actually a bit excited at this turn of events. Hermione always came out on top, she always did..she would find a way through. And he had said she would never have to worry about schooling again. And the Malfoy's, despite their well deserved dubious reputation, were exceedingly well-off. Lucious was brilliant. Hermione might even enjoy herself. Might. Arnold swallowed. That was the catch, wasn't it? Even if things turned out all right in the end, there was going to be a huge fallout.

As Mr. Granger stepped through his door, a black owl nearly took his head off. "Of all the luck!" He caught the falling letter, somewhat surprised that the bird flew off without waiting for a reward, tip, or payment.

"Honey?" His wife called from the hallyway.

"Home, dear." He said resignedly.

"That bad?" She looked so worried it was heartbreaking.

"No...and yes." Arnold sat down beside her. "We don't have to worry as much financially for a while. And I've given up gambling."

"Really?" Mara would have been more hopeful had it not been something she's heard a dozen times before.

"Well, it wasn't much of a choice." He ran his hand through his hair. But I crossed a line..." Mr. Granger filled her in, and the scolding that followed proved that Mrs. Granger had a good deal of strength left in her after all.

* * *

Hermione frowned at the nursery rhyme book. She didn't want to read it, but it looked like she had to. Snape had probably memorized it, or most of it, when he was young, and she didn't want him to have any sort of advantage in such a situation. But more than that, it also seemed to be where most of their clues were coming from. Still, the illustrations were so...disturbing. Many of them moved, like wizarding photos. But then, she had seen many disturbing things in her time at Hogwarts, and in her fight against Voldemort. She couldn't let a book defeat her. Pulling out fresh parchment, she began to take notes. She found some spell on the book refused to let the poems actually be copied, but a certain degree of summarization was allowed.

'Nightingale sings inside its cage Nightingale trills a merry tune "Docent" says the boy with key Nightingale sings no more'

"This nightingale poem uses symbolism to perhaps detail a silencing spell. In the illustration the nightingale's beak is closed, but it does not die. (Death being the other possible meaning that comes to mind for a silenced bird)." Hermione looked up from her quill, finding a fly buzzing about the room. She held out her wand at it. "Docent!" The blast of power surging from her wand nearly knocked her back, but the fly kept buzzing. She put her wand down. Maybe it was some form of wandless magic? "Docent!" Another jarring blast of power left her, but the fly still buzzed, louder even. "Docent!" She pouted, changing the pronunciation. Her power shot out at the fly and it finally stopped buzzing. "All right!" She smiled, then frowned.

It had stopped buzzing because it had fallen to the floor, quite fried. Hermione turned back to her paper somewhat miffed. "In the poem, the caster is the owner of the bird. Perhaps only the guardian can cast this spell rather than any wizard. He has no wand in the poem or the picture. Could this be wandless magic?" Hermione turned a few pages, looking at the poem Snape had read earlier.

'Bought by Bone Bought by Blood Yet we are not Complete Mad by the Hour Bonds turn Sour Power Grows Replete Dare not spurn Or deeper burn But rather two crests meet'

The image was troubling her. Certainly, contacting their bonds had worked. But if that was all that was needed, why were the two in the picture so much more...amorous? Hermione blushed. And wearing significantly less clothing.

She moved to a different poem.

* * *

When things settled down, as much as they were likely too, at the Granger residence, Arnold finally opened his mail. "Honey..." He called, a bit shocked. "How would you feel about a trip to Hogwarts?"

"Why dear?" She asked, still unsettled and wondering how she would get in contact with Hermione to make sure she was safe - and furthermore, how to convince Lucius to give her back.

"Apparently Madam Poppy has a program for the study of rare muggle conditions for some of the more advanced students. You could stay there for a while and you could be examined by one of the best mediwitches the wizarding world has to offer!"

"What's the catch?"

"Maybe Lucius feels bad."

"Malfoy AGAIN!"

"Just think about it dear. It is your best shot, and it was kind of him to suggest it. Pomfrey only has a few openings a year, and constantly apparating to appointments in America is hard on you."

"And selling my soul to the Malfoy's isn't?" Mara shook her head. Things were going from bad to worse.

* * *

Lucius and Snape might have been interested to know that they both were sitting in the exact same posture. Both had claimed firm chairs by their respective firesides, though the rooms were kept cool. Both were drinking: although while Lucius was sipping at a refined wine, Severus was sipping at a firewhisky 'potion'. (Which he was sure Hermione would disapprove of highly, and hence was why he had her taking noted in the other room. Both men had one leg crossed over the other, and had donned a fine deep green evening robe, so deep it was almost black. And both were reading a special edition of the Wizard Post.

A strange house was splayed across the cover, looking thoroughly uninviting. (And they both knew, it was far more uninviting than it looked.) Cages with trapped animals lined the front lawn, some dead, some animated in some imitation of life, and some clearly alive. Some had obviously been tortured, but others looked quite content and were preening themselves. The door was a massive bolted and barred affair, and the whole mansion had one too many gargoyles. The headline simply read '_Graner Mansion Awakens'_.

The article was big on hype and low on substance. Graner had been a powerful wizard of his time (and the article hinted in a very bold read between the lines DARK), but disappeared one day, managing to wipe out most records of his existence. His imposing mansion he made unplottable, vanished out of practical existance. No heir ever stepped up to continue the line. While he had been a prolific author, his books faded into mere rumor and disappeared from circulation. Both men finished their drinks, and sent the glass into his respective fire.

* * *

"Voldemort take him." Lucius was infuriated. His plans would have to be modified, and how he could proceed as it was he was still unsure. The Graner mansion was no trifle. And for the mansion to awake meant that Snape was proceeding faster than he thought he would, which meant that Snape might know more than a Potion's Master ought to. Lucius might have to deal with the threat more quickly than first planned.

* * *

"Merlin's Beard." Snape hissed. What was that man thinking, to awake something like that? Graner was far to self-occupied to be a threat like Voldemort, but dark wizardry was bad business in general. And Snape had no doubt on the timing - the article gave the mansion's awakening at exactly the time when he 'completed' the bond with Hermione. His day just kept getting better and better.

* * *

How I love thy summer locks

Thy pearl sheened nails

Thy glassen tears

Boiling in a Cauldron hot

That I might keep you seven years

_From "Every Love Potion, Portent, and Charms Ever Made" This book was censored and restricted many centuries ago by the High Council of Wizards. Anyone caught with it will find themselves with a one-way trip to Azkaban. Strangely, excerpts from it aren't forbidden, and the contents are not hard to dig up for a lovestruck teen._


End file.
